


Walk of Shame

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Smoking, Walk Of Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: Gold leaves Belle French's apartment, many hours after he first arrived...to head home.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 41
Kudos: 107





	Walk of Shame

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [picture of Bobby from OUAT filming](https://timelordthirteen.tumblr.com/post/615406525750575104/hbd-bobby) which we all agree is clearly Gold doing a "walk of shame." And the first gif in [this post.](https://timelordthirteen.tumblr.com/post/614655986609930240/once-upon-a-time-text-posts-15)

Gold held up a hand to shield his eyes as he stepped into the glaring morning sun.

He leaned heavily on his cane while he fumbled in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. It took him a full minute to get one out and light it with only one hand, his loose tie dangling around either side of his neck as he bent his head, and he sighed as he took a long first drag. Two months had passed since his last one. He’d finally resolved to quit, both for his own health and so his son would stop nagging him, but something about the moment made it feel like the thing to do.

He flicked a bit of ash towards the ground and leaned on one of the poles that supported the overhang in front of the library. Smoke swirled up in front of him before catching in the light spring breeze and wafting away as he smirked and took stock of himself. His bad leg had settled into a dull, persistent throb, and his back was unusually stiff. Spending a night in an unfamiliar bed on a mattress that, while serviceable, was full of creaky springs and lumps from too many moving vans, had done him no favors, neither had not having access to his usual evening dose of pain medication. Still, there was nothing a hot shower and a couple of pills wouldn’t solve.

The streets were deserted at this time of day, thankfully. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see him in his current state of creased trousers and wrinkled shirt, a far cry from his usual impeccability. Though he wouldn’t mind anyone knowing what he’d been up to the previous evening, he wasn’t entirely sure that the person he’d been with would feel the same. His position and power here relied on maintaining a certain sense of the unknown about himself, and an eccentricity that he didn’t really possess but that many people had imbued him with anyway. He’d been far too happy to own all the titles they would give him: evil landlord, miserly pawn broker, devil of Storybrooke; there were so many he’d been called to his face he’d lost count, and still more that he knew were muttered behind his back.

Gold smirked to himself and blew out another stream of smoke.

His lips felt slightly tender, and as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight an unfamiliar, yet not uncomfortable, ache spread across his body. Muscles had been used in ways they weren’t used to, showing his age a little more than he liked, but it had all been quite worthwhile. 

Who would have predicted the lovely Belle French could be so...insatiable?

He shook his head and took one last, long draw from his cigarette, as his evening - and subsequent morning - with Storybrooke's librarian replayed in his mind.

Gold had been out collecting rent, like any other Thursday, saving his favorite stop for last. Belle had only lived in town for a couple of years, having moved with her father from Boston, not long after her mother's passing. She'd said once that it was about a fresh start for the two of them, and that was something Gold could easily understand.

The rent was ready and sitting on the side table just inside the apartment door, a check slid into a plain white envelope. She was never late, never short, and never not a delight to speak to, though he was perhaps a bit biased in that regard. He had expected an exchange of pleasantries, a short chat, and to be on his way with the rent in his pocket, home to his pink Victorian house and his usual solitary existence.

A moment after Belle opened the door, the sky, which had been overcast and gray all day, opened up in a deluge of rain and a sharp crack of thunder. It startled both of them, and they shared a laugh before she asked him if he wanted to come in until it passed. He’d hesitated at first, but her invitation was in earnest, and before he knew it he was seated on Belle French’s sofa and sipping tea from the delicate porcelain set he’d sold to her barely a year ago.

Later, when the rain had adamantly refused to let up, Gold had resigned himself to walking back to his shop, soaked to the bone. But she wouldn’t hear of it and insisted he stay until it had abated. He got the sense that she was pleased just to have some company, and was uncertain if it mattered that it was him or not. 

That thought was dispelled some time after a dinner of reheated lasagna from Granny’s Diner, when he found himself with a lapful of a very enthusiastic Belle. It had been foolish to try to kiss her in her own kitchen, while the storm rattled the small window over the sink, and he was quite prepared to be thrown out on his arse over it. She had done quite the opposite, much to their mutual delight and satisfaction.

Multiple times.

His assumptions that Belle French was in fact wonderful, beautiful, and perfect, had all been confirmed over the course of the evening, and earlier this morning. In fact she was brilliant, stunning, and so many levels out of his league his mind boggled that she would do more than give him the time of day. And she’d done far more than that.

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, drawing on his cigarette as a shiver washed over him. The memory of her slick warmth clenching around him made his head spin, and the sensation of her mouth dragging along his length left him shifting his cane to stay upright. He could still smell her on his fingers as he reached up and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

It had been near impossible to drag himself from her apartment this morning, leaving her wearing nothing but a naughty smile as she walked, loose legged, towards the bathroom. He was fairly certain she wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, though he would prefer it be in his bed this time, perhaps after having dazzled her with his culinary skills as a prelude to dazzling her with other skills he had yet to be able to demonstrate.

Gold’s leg twinged painfully, bringing him back to reality, and he licked his lips and stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the trash bin beside the library entrance before tossing it inside. The rest of the pack followed after it with a heavy sigh. Belle hated smoking.

He stepped off the curb onto the pavement, still wet from last evening’s rain, fighting to hold back a smile. Plans were rolling through his mind, including what kind of flowers he might send to the library this afternoon along with an invitation to dinner Saturday night, when he noticed something moving across the street.

Coming out of the side door of Granny’s Inn was Regina Mills, looking nearly as wrecked as Gold, with her usually prim suit jacket draped over her arm, her blouse untucked from her pencil skirt, and her hair a tousled mess. The inn did a fairly good business in the summer, but early spring didn’t bring many tourists to the coast of Maine, and the only known occupant at present was Emma Swan, the new Sheriff. She and Regina had been publicly sparring for the entire six months Emma had been in Storybrooke, though many noticed there was always an undercurrent of something else between them. By strange circumstance, they now shared a son, and he had assumed that much of their discord came from that particular conflict.

Gold stopped next to his Cadillac, parked in front of his shop, and watched as the Mayor looked around nervously on her way to her car, much the same as he had upon exiting Belle’s apartment over the library. A smirk spread across his face as he pulled open the door of his car and then slammed it shut, making sure to generate as much noise as possible.

Regina startled and turned slowly, her eyes going wide when she saw him.

He pulled open the car door again, smiling back at her before he reached in to set his cane on the passenger’s side. “Good morning, Regina.”

She regarded him suspiciously, and then turned to look at the library. When she faced him again, she was wearing an equally bemused expression. “Gold,” she replied, crossing the vacant street. “Late night?”

“No later than yours I’d imagine.” His grin widened, his tongue pushing at his bottom lip. “Up all night discussing the local crime rate with our new sheriff?”

She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and attempted to smooth the front of her hair as it fell across her eyes. “And if I was?”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted at her acknowledgement. “Then I would expect the town to benefit from this newfound... _cooperation_ between the mayor’s office and law enforcement.”

Regina tossed her hair back and fixed him with a glare. “I suppose you were just, what? Joining the weekly book club?”

His lips curled and he flashed her his teeth. “Something like that.”

She regarded him for a long moment, and then matched his look with one of her own. “Perhaps we’ll both have better things to do now than antagonizing each other at city council meetings?”

His head tilted. “Oh, I very much doubt that. You see I’ve just recently learned that the local library is greatly underfunded.”

She tipped her head back in that way which conveyed she was looking down her nose at someone, even if they were taller. “And you’re it’s new patron saint?”

He looked away, in the direction of said library, and let out a soft sigh. “Something like that.”

“As I recall,” she began, her voice dropping, “you were opposed to its reopening. What’s changed?”

He leaned forward, bracing against the car, and replied, “Let’s just say I’ve developed a new appreciation for the struggle of our public library system.”

Regina bit her lip as she started to smile. “Then we’ll have to discuss how to correct that, won’t we.”

“Indeed,” he said, seriously. Then he slid into his car, and waited as Regina moved away so he could close the door. He gave her a curt nod through the window, the Cadillac rumbling to life and disturbing the otherwise peaceful morning. 

“Regina...”

“Gold...”

He pulled away from the curb, glancing in the rearview mirror to see Regina hurry off to her own vehicle, and grinned to himself. It seemed more than one new _alliance_ had been formed in last evening’s rain.


End file.
